


"Have a nice day!"

by VagueSadness



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Barista Kim Hongjoong, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24845197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagueSadness/pseuds/VagueSadness
Summary: “Hey, I used to make you latte and to leave dumb notes, what's up?”or, the AU where Hongjoong tries to draw attention of one handsome guy coming on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55
Collections: ateez ff





	"Have a nice day!"

**Author's Note:**

> I promise you would hate the pronoun "he".
> 
> Thanks to [heecheondo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HChnD/pseuds/heecheondo) for being beta, again! Love him, read his works!  
> English (still) isn't my native language, I'm sorry for any mistakes you can meet.
> 
> Have fun.

Hongjoong was just being friendly with everyone so he chose a job where he could share his mood with other people. A good mood, primarily, but as necessary a bad one too.

The job of a barista in a coffee shop was almost perfect for that. Almost — because Hongjoong was forced to make some concessions. After a week of the traineeship, Wooyoung categorically forbade the rookie to take orders and to talk with guests in principle. And Wooyoung did that not because he’s evil (although Hongjoong is sure he _is_ evil) but because the trainee used to have attacks of irritation and as the result of them he might be rude to visitors. He didn't kick anyone out, of course, but allowed himself to give them an unkind look or a sarcastic comment about the order, especially if the person didn’t know anything about coffee. However, Hongjoong always could send a friendly smile to the guest, draw the sun on a cup, and even wave to their regular visitors. Jongho and Yeosang, Wooyoung’s groupmates, often came to them after their classes, mainly since they had easily became friends with the trainee. Yeosang was into photography and Hongjoong seriously offered to print out his works and hang them in the coffee shop; Jongho impressed everyone with the strength contained in his, at first glance, modest body, when he helped the guys drag boxes with dozens of liters of milk.

Having more free time than his colleague, Hongjoong used to work all weekdays, and Wooyoung got the weekend. Wooyoung would never have agreed to leave the hyung with the guests one-on-one if not for the threat his dismissal from the University for skipping classes. The student debt was calling with terrible force, and the young man grudgingly gave the most detailed list of instructions to the older: what to say and do, what not to do, how to behave with visitors, and even underlined with a red marker the phrases which Hongjoong had to learn by heart.

Hongjoong attentively nodded to his mentor and, as soon as his workday was over, threw the list into the nearest trash can. Then he came back, took the paper out, and carried it to the further one. Not that he thought that Wooyoung would be digging through trash cans, but caution is never superfluous.

There were completely different and sometimes even strange people among the clients: previously, Hongjoong couldn’t even imagine what kind of nonsenses placed in their minds. There were old ladies expecting a trick literally everywhere; girls ordering a cappuccino with skimmed milk and with a whole mountain of cream on top in the same time; guys asking for three spoonfuls of sugar in their chocolate mochaccino. There’s no accounting for tastes but, obviously, Hongjoong doesn’t agree with this expression.

Soon after he started working independently, a new regular visitor appeared in the cafe. A slim young man with an outrageously fashionable hairstyle revealing his high forehead; he came on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, always in the evening, ordered a caramel latte and stayed for several hours with a pile of papers at the table by the window. People often worked in the cafe so Hongjoong didn’t pay attention to him at first.

Just. This guy reminded him _what_ he became a barista for.

Hongjoong was preparing for closing: counting the cash register, clearing dishes, filling out the reports. Looking up into the hall, he studied the hunched figure in the gray jacket for a long moment. The youth was clutching his head with hands, hiding his face. For a second, Hongjoong thought that he was crying. But, in a flash, the mysterious almost-familiar guy quickly gathered up his sheets scattered on the table, threw them into his briefcase, and escaped from the coffee shop into the dark street, merged with the life outside the windows.

Trudging home, pacing the asphalt of a parking in a residential district, Hongjoong couldn't throw the image away from his mind. («Yeosang would have been happy to see such a picture: the embodiment of grief and despair.»)

It was at Wednesday.

Since Thursday morning, Hongjoong was determined: he patiently and persistently waited for the evening, and when the welcome guest came into the cafe (today he was dressed more simply and, to be honest, the striped shirt with a pullover suited him just as well as his previous outfit), Hongjoong started to execute his plan.

While the machine was pouring espresso extract into the pitcher, he took from the drawer the colored stickers he had brought during his traineeship and carefully wrote on a piece of paper, _«I'm sure you will succeed!»_ He thought about drawing a heart but didn't risk: what if the guy gets offended and doesn't come back? Wooyoung would reproach again that Hongjoong scares the customers, and moreover, his lectures on demeanor are terribly boring, besides the main point — «Be a sexy barista!» — Hongjoong remembered already at the moment when Wooyoung repeated his golden rule for the fifth time in three hours.

Customers usually picked their drink up on their own after the loud announcement that their order was made; but this time, Hongjoong decided to carefully hide the sticker under the cup and to bring his creation himself to the guest.

The young man sitting at the table by the window was frowning his dark brows, bit his lower lip; he was drawing lines in his notebook with the blunt tip of a pencil. Hongjoong froze from behind reading the title of the book lying on the edge of the table.

«The general theory of probability.»

Oh.

It's too difficult for Hongjoong.

Being engrossed in tasks, the guy didn’t even notice that the drink had been brought to him; Hongjoong suppressed a sad sigh and returned to the workplace, raising his head every five minutes to have a look at the thoughtful stranger.

Soon Hongjoong had to rush from the cash register to the coffee machine and back because the queue filled all the hall: as usual at this late hour, employees of the office across the street came for a cup of coffee before going home. He forgot to think about his little prank trying to not mix up whether it was a banana-mint cappuccino (God have mercy on these people who order _this_ ) or banana-raspberry one, or whether it actually was a latte with banana milk.

Under such circumstances, Hongjoong will hate bananas. Thank God, _he_ drinks only with caramel.

As soon as the crowd got their daily dose of caffeine and moved away from the bar, Hongjoong glanced at the table by the window. The coffee in the cup was obviously finished, and the young man was collecting his books and sheets.

For a moment he looked up and met Hongjoong's gaze.

The barista smiled charmingly.

The young man only arched his eyebrow, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and left.

A whole week had passed since the incident, and the mysterious student didn’t visit the coffee shop again. At the same time, Wooyoung came for a few shifts, and Hongjoong was asking himself did he come for the money or to annoy his colleague. With every hour they spent together, the latter option seemed more and more true.

At a bleak Monday evening, two hours before closing time, Hongjoong was scrolling through his twitter news feed for the tenth time when a polite cough made him look up sharply. For the first moment he felt joy; for the second one — confusion. Yes, it was _him_ , but _he_ wasn't alone.

Wooyoung leapt to the counter and amazed the customers by his broad smile.

“Good evening! What can I do for you?” He kicked Hongjoong in the tight by imperceptible movement. The older one rolled his eyes but put the phone in the back pocket of his jeans and easily rose from the floor trying to not stare at the tall young man who looked so gorgeous in this light coat.

“Do you make milkshakes?” _his_ friend asked calmly. He had surprisingly sharp, arresting features, and his voice sounded extremely pleasant.

“Yes, of course. Which taste, volume, topping?” Wooyoung loudly tapped his card on the screen.

“Vanilla, medium. And one big caramel latte, please.”

While his partner was talking with the customers, Hongjoong turned back to his workplace. The blender was next to the coffee machine, but he had to search for ice cream into the refrigerator. Anyway, he didn't have a chance to notice the curious gaze of his familiar stranger or to hear the conversation between them.

“Did you mean him?” asked quietly the owner of the sharpest jawline in the world and nodded at Hongjoong which was currently holding the lid of the noisy blender with a bored expression. “I'm sure he likes you, hyung. Did you notice how were his eyes shining when he saw you?”

Wooyoung raised his eyebrows in the highest degree of surprise and started to quickly turn his head looking first at his colleague and then back at the guests. Hongjoong put the cocktail down on the counter and went back to the coffee machine to making latte. Pouring coffee into the milk, he drew the sun on the foam by the remains of the espresso.

“Hyung, since when do you draw?” Wooyoung's sharp eyes didn’t miss the effort which the older was drawing with. Not losing the rest of self-esteem, Hongjoong soundlessly placed the cup with the finished drink on the front and met _his_ gaze.

“Thank you very much!” the second guy had taken both cups. His tall friend uncertainly smiled to Hongjoong before leaving.

“Please come again!” said Wooyoung loudly and cheerfully, and as soon as the door closed behind the guests he caught his colleague. “What kind of chemistry is this, hyung? What did I miss? Do you flirt with customers?”

“I'm not flirting with anyone,” irritably answered Hongjoong pulling his dongsaeng's hands away from his work apron and returning to the heated place on the floor.

“Then why were you looking at each other like that? I am a professional in the field of meaningful looks, and it’s impossible to not notice that there’s something between you!” Wooyoung loomed over him. Hongjoong wearily looked up and pointed at his own face.

“Then read what I'm trying to tell you.”

“I won't give up, hyung!”

“In two hours you’ll have to.”

Hongjoong got rid of it only in the subway, jumping out of the train one stop earlier and ignoring the voice coming from behind, “Hyung, are you getting off _here_?”

A few shifts later, _he_ and his friend came back; the second one seemed as a friendly and empathetic guy, although his directness was discouraging sometimes.

“Hyung showed me the note you wrote to him,” he said with a warm smile when Hongjoong’s familiar stranger had gone outside answering the phone a minute earlier. “Nice move! I liked it.”

“Did it... offend him?” asked Hongjoong placing both drinks on the bar. Today he was working alone and could not play the role of an impassive and very adult hyung for some Wooyoungs.

“He was only pleasantly surprised,” answered the other intending to take the glasses.

“Wait!” Hongjoong almost tore off the handle of the drawer; he took the stickers out, wrote _«pls come again~»_ in a sloppy but legible way, drew a star around this, and pasted the piece of paper on the lid. The young guy read the message curiously.

“What about me?” he exclaimed with feigning indignation. Hongjoong felt himself blushing; after thinking for a few seconds, he put a sticker with the wish for a good day on the second drink. “That's better. Good day to you too!” The guy saluted and went outside. Hongjoong was watching through the windows how his friend accepted the coffee and read the note. _He_ stared at the colored piece of paper in confusion, then raised his head and looked inside. Hongjoong smiled at him and waved.

The young man turned abruptly and hurried away, and his friend had to run to follow him.

Hongjoong isn’t sure that this can be considered as progress but in any case it’s better than nothing.

For a month, Hongjoong kept making coffee for them: sometimes the guys came together and took drinks to go; if _he_ came alone _he_ placed his favorite table by the window and stayed with his notes for hours. Being emboldened, Hongjoong continued to write small messages for him and tried not to repeat himself.

 _«Smile, the sun shines so bright especially for you!»_ and there’s a picture in the corner of the sheet. _He_ tried to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched in a smile, and the crease between his brows disappeared.

 _«Take care of yourself! Don't forget to rest,»_ and the sleeping man was drawn at the bottom. _He_ chuckled into his fist but put the note aside carefully.

 _«You always look good but this light coat suits you very well!»_ _He_ covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, not daring to look up.

 _«Cheer up! You will definitely succeed!»_ a symbolic drawing of a stack of books was on the edge. _He_ sighed wearily and nodded to himself, pushed the notebook aside, and leaned back in his chair, watching the passers-by through the window. (Hongjoong wasn’t staring at _him_ , no way.)

 _«Have you seen the new movie about Avengers? What's your favorite character?»_ _He_ rolled his eyes like it said: “I don't have time for movies.”

Hongjoong tried to not think that all his attentions had no response. Eventually, he wasn't doing this for the sake of gratitude or reciprocity. He only wanted to be the reason for _his_ smile, even if it was for a few seconds.

One day, Wooyoung caught him in the act and snatched the sticker right from under his nose.

“ _«Dress warmer, it's getting cold outside»_? Hyung, what is that?” Wooyoung stifled a laugh and looked at Hongjoong with interest.

“Shut up,” hissed Hongjoong and slammed the cup down on the counter. “Caramel latte!”

Feeling a sudden surge of shame, Hongjoong turned back to the coffee machine; to distract himself from his partner's sniggering, he began to wipe the pallet of the machine and took a new pack of cups from the cupboard.

“I’m sorry,” _his_ voice was low and viscous, like the caramel _he_ always asks to add into his coffee. “This is attached to my order. May I?”

 _He_ carefully took the note away from the surprised Wooyoung, gave a shy smile to Hongjoong, and took a sip of coffee before returning to the table by the window.

“I'm very carefully listening to you,” Wooyoung was a real embodiment of that common meme where an actor propped his chin on his fist and smiled tightly.

“Get lost,” howled Hongjoong and demonstratively turned away sitting on the ground.

“Never,” Wooyoung shook him by the shoulder. “Hey, hyung, don't sit on the floor in front of the customers!”

“Who cares about that?” whimpered the older. “Leave me alone, I'm broken.”

“I'll call the guy you have a crush on! Young man! Please, give a little attention to us!”

“Don’t!” Hongjoong immediately flew to attack his dongsaeng and covered his mouth with his hand, glanced nervously back. ’The young man’ raised his head and turned in amazement to watch how two baristas fought noisily behind the bar. “He's not my crush!”

“And I was born in America then,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and tried to bite hyung's hand. “What's with the stickers? And why did you figure it out before and not me?”

“I was just trying to cheer him up!” excused Hongjoong himself. “And then I thought why not do it more often?”

“Let me guess: you leave notes only for him, right?”

Hongjoong snorted refusing to accept his defeat and kicked Wooyoung which was laughing too loudly.

“Do you even know the name of your beautiful stranger?”

“I don’t.”

“Should I ask instead of you, hyung?” he openly mocked.

Only new visitors saved Hongjoong’s dongsaeng from his sudden death.

The time of exams had come: Wooyoung went out to shift once per week, being immersed in the hardships of student life. Hongjoong stayed behind the counter almost every day having time only to sleep between shifts and mindlessly watch half of a series, the plot of which he couldn't even remember. The familiar stranger appeared in the cafe only once, and was with his friend, and, well, _he_ looked pretty tired. Hongjoong wrote them both wishing good luck (who would wish the same to him) and smiled brightly, and after they left he sat again down in his favorite corner next to the refrigerator and thought it was time to quit. His sabbatical has come to the end, and he have to continue his studies. Yeosang said that he will miss, and Jongho gave the older high-five, “Hyung, fighting!”

Hongjoong thought a lot about what to do if he sees _him_ again. To ask for a number? It’s too self-confident. To start a conversation? Overly intrusive. To exchange their twitter usernames under the pretext of “I want to know more about you”? It's too directly and generally seems like stalking. Of course, he could be not so directly and ask his friend to give _his_ contacts, but, still, what would he write? “Hey, I used to make you latte and to leave dumb notes, what's up?”

Hongjoong groaned and banged his forehead against the counter.

Should he ask Wooyoung for that? No, it’s too stupid, and he would never escape from Wooyoung’s jeers.

Well, after all, he had lived without _him_ before, and he can live without _him_ now, right? It would be better, of course, if he had even the slightest chance of getting closer, but... But if it’s their fate they would meet again. And he can still ask for _his_ name, at least.

Hongjoong did his last shift with a heavy heart. Definitely, he was glad that his life was finally going to be a little easier (any studies is also a job, though), but there was not much time left before closing time, and the welcome guest still didn't show up. Perhaps, he was preparing for exams at home.

Hongjoong took a deep breath and returned to that stupid game “make up words with the provided letters”.

When it was half an hour before closing time, the door slammed. Hongjoong idly blocked the screen and looked up, but his phone almost slipped out of his hand. It was _him_.

 _Him_ and his caramel latte. As always.

Hongjoong’s hands started to shake, and his throat became dry. He was afraid that he would make the coffee tasteless with such a tremor. Or maybe he was afraid to miss his last chance — that would be awful to spoil the last impression, anyway. Hongjoong put a sticker on the top of the cup and placed the drink on the counter. He cleared his throat again intending to say something before _he_ leave forever; but when _he_ read the note with wishing about the twenty-fifth hour of the day for longer sleep, _he_ grinned, reached into his pocket for a pen, took off the sticker, and wrote something on the back. Hongjoong froze, not even breathing.

When the note was placed in his hand, the symbols stood out in black on the colored paper, forming a phone number.

Filled with disbelief, happiness, and awe at the same time, Hongjoong looked up at _him_.

 _He_ smiled warmly.

“Seonghwa.”

“Hongjoong.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'll be glad to any comments, feel free to talk  
> Thanks for your attention!


End file.
